


When I Started To Sink

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dyspraxia, Gen, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-02-27 02:52:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18730249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: Team TARDIS try to teach Ryan a useful life skill. He's not convinced.





	When I Started To Sink

“This is stupid,” Ryan mutters for the hundredth time that hour, knowing he sounds like a petulant child but unable to stop himself. “I’ll never be able to do this.”

The four of them are stood up to their waists in water. This isn’t entirely uncommon – it happens more often than any of them would care to admit – but what’s weird is that this time, they’re actually dressed for the occasion. No more soggy trainers or soaked jackets here, no thank _you._ The Doctor is wearing her usual t-shirt over some kind of swimsuit… thing (he hasn’t looked too closely – he can imagine his gran clipping him round the ear for staring at a woman in swimwear, and the memory alone is enough to invoke a phantom pain in the side of his head); Yaz is dressed in something approximately similar, and Graham is wearing a truly hideous pair of swim shorts with a pattern so bright that it makes his head hurt. Above the shorts, his chest is bare, and it feels weird seeing Graham like this – it reminds Ryan that underneath all the confidence and quiet assurance, Graham is just the same as he is, flesh and blood, and scrawny flesh and blood at that. Ryan supposes he should be grateful that his grandad’s jokes about Speedos were unfounded, if nothing else. 

The four of them in swimwear would be weird enough, but the water they’re stood in, while pleasantly warm, is also an arresting shade of pink. Ryan’s not got anything against pink, nor has he got anything against pink water – he’s wary of the Doctor telling him he’s… water-ist, or something – but water should be blue, thank you very much; or he supposes that technically it should be clear, but this water is definitely pink, and definitely very buoyant, and seriously, why did they have to come to this stupid planet, anyway? It’s better than the local swimming pool, he supposes, and less full of people he knows, his three friends aside, so there’s that – he’s already humiliated himself there on numerous occasions, and in more than one case the lifeguards had had to fish him out – but it’s still weird.

“Why are we even here?” he asks again, folding his arms and endeavouring to not look like a stroppy teenager. “What’s wrong with Earth water?”

“It’s not as buoyant. You’d be sinking a lot faster,” the Doctor informs him brightly, leaning her head back and enjoying the sun on her face. “This is more buoyant than the Dead Sea, so you’re basically a feather floating along on the surface.” 

“In theory,” he shoots back darkly, then regrets his sour tone when her face falls. “I’m actually just splashing about, let’s be honest.” 

“Splashing about is the first step to swimming,” she says pragmatically, and he both loves and loathes her pragmatism. “How do you think _I_ learned to swim?” 

“You can swim?” Yaz asks, frowning slightly. “I didn’t know that.” 

“I nearly got the gold for the 100m at London 2012, but they disqualified me after they worked out I’ve got two hearts. Seemed a bit biased, if you ask me, but the chap that won was just as good.”

“Stroke of choice?” Graham asked, looking – Ryan notes with bemusement – overly interested in this nugget of information.

“Oooh, definitely cats. Love stroking a good cat. Or a bad cat. Or a big cat. Or any cat, really. They’re soft and cuddly and-” 

“Swimming stroke,” Ryan corrects, and she blushes for a moment. 

“Oh. Right. Urm. Any, really. Butterfly is rather good, but there’s this Venusian technique called-” 

“Aren’t we getting a bit off-topic?” Yaz notes, cutting her off mid-ramble. “We’re meant to be helping Ryan.”

“Right,” the Doctor says sheepishly, and opens her arms. “Come on, Ryan. Swim to me.” 

He folds his arms where he’s stood, a short distance away, and plants his feet more firmly on the sandy bottom of the lagoon. “No.” 

“Come on, don’t be shy. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” 

“I know,” he mumbles. They’ve been here for what seems like hours, and in that time, every time his head has slipped under or he’s swallowed any of the pink water, the Doctor has been the first one to lift him up, to bang him on the back, or offer reassurance. She’s beaten Graham to it on a number of occasions, and he wonders idly why she’s so invested in this. Perhaps she thinks it’s a useful skill for her friends to have, swimming. Or perhaps she just genuinely… wants to see him succeed. The second thought is slower to come, and he doesn’t fully understand why she’d care, but it seems a distinct possibility. 

“Come on,” she says again, more gently this time, and she offers him a warm, encouraging smile. “You can do this.” 

“Come on, Ryan,” Yaz echoes, grinning. “You’ve got this. Show that water who’s boss.” 

“You can do it, son,” Graham tells him. “Got a good feeling about this time.” 

Ryan takes a deep breath, leans forward and pushes away from the bottom with his feet. The buoyancy of the water kicks in and he splashes a couple of uncoordinated strokes before his head goes under and he emerges coughing and spluttering back into the air, smashing his fists into the surface of the lagoon in frustration. The ensuing shower of droplets hits Yaz, who yelps in protest before splashing him back, but he’s too preoccupied to care. 

“I’m never gonna be able to do this! I’m just a stupid idiot with dyspraxia who is never gonna be able to swim, so can we please just give up and go back to the TARDIS now?” he half-shouts, but the Doctor shakes her head firmly. “Why are you so bothered about this?! It’s not that bloody important!”

“I know how much it bothers you, Ryan, and I know how much you want this,” the Time Lady says quietly. “I know it’s frustrating, but you can do this. I absolutely believe you can do this, and it’s finding a way that works for you. Why don’t you try on your back? You don’t have to worry about your face going under then.” 

“Because it won’t work,” he says sourly, resisting the urge to just splash back to the TARDIS. “Tried it when I was a kid. Sank like a stone.” 

“Well, you’re not a kid now. And despite your protests, you’re not a stupid idiot, and your dyspraxia doesn’t define you. Remember when we first met and you were worried about ladders? What happened?” 

“I climbed the ladder,” he mumbles, dropping his gaze to the water.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” 

“I climbed the ladder.” 

“Sorry, still can’t hear you.” 

“ _I climbed the ladder!_ ” he says more loudly, and the Doctor smiles. 

“Yes, you did,” she says simply. “Come on. Backstroke. You can do it.”

Ryan groans but turns his back to her, repeating the same motions as a moment before. Kick off, splash about, splash a bit more…

His face isn’t in the water. 

He isn’t sinking. 

_Splash._

_Splash._

_Thud_.

A pair of arms wrap around him, and he drops his feet and straightens up as he realises that he’s crashed into the Doctor.

More importantly, he realises that for him to be able to crash into the Doctor, he’s splashed his way across the distance between them. 

“You did it!” she enthuses, bouncing up and down with glee and crowing with delight. “See? I said you could do it, and you did!” 

“Well done!” Yaz shouts, doggy-paddling over to them and joining the hug. “See? Sometimes you’ve just got to think outside the box.” 

Ryan nods, looking over at Graham, and realises his grandad is distinctly misty-eyed. “Oi, Grandad,” he calls. “Don’t you start crying, it’s only a few metres.”

“First stop: a few metres,” Graham says hoarsely, wiping his eyes. “Next stop: Tokyo 2020.” 

“Yeah, alright,” Ryan acquiesces, sending an arcing splash of water in his grandad’s direction. “Let’s not push it.” 

“Hey!” Graham yelps, splashing the three of them back. “Three against one! I’m being ganged up on!” 

“Fine,” Ryan flips over and splash-swims over to his grandad, turning back to face the Doctor and Yaz. “Two against two; seem any fairer?” 

“I’m proud of you, son,” Graham says seriously. “Very, very proud.”

Then his hand hits the water and Ryan finds a small wave hitting him in the face, and all hell breaks loose.


End file.
